On TV, and in books and movies, people talk about how some moments in life have absolutely no words. That sometimes, of the plethora of languages us humans have come up with over the course of centuries, none of them could possibly some up what you're trying to say- none of them could express the right feeling, the right thoughts.
Personally, I've never been able to relate to that; admittedly, sometimes actions speak louder than words, and sometimes it may take me a few moments to find the right sentence to convey what I think, but never, in my short teenage life, have I been at a complete and utter loss of words.
At least, not until now.
Not until Nathan Walker crashed into my life; with his shy smiles and stuttered conversations, his sea-deep blue eyes and warmth inducing hugs.
It's everything about the moment, and yet nothing at all; the minuscule details too tiny to be typically cared about- like the snowflakes fluttering in his eyelashes, and the wrinkles of his shirt sleeves- and yet to me, they'll be the things I remember the most.
His hands are shaking against my waist, bunched into the fabric of my dress so tightly I can feel the heat of his palms.
I don't realize how long I've been silent for, how quiet I've been after his confession, not until he starts blinking fast, until a single, lone tear trickles down his cheek bone, dipping over the sharp slope of his jaw and trailing a path down his neck.
Shaking my head, I bring my hands up to cup his face, smiling at him softly.
"I've wanted this for so long Nathan."
His breath is a gasp, the sharp intake of breath accompanied by his sigh.
"R-really?"
My forehead leans into his, and I let my eyes close, content to enjoy the moment.
"Really." My lips brush the bridge of his nose when I smile, and I can feel him smiling in response to that, pulling me closer.
"I have for a long time now."
"Y-you h-ha-have? Th-this, w-wi-wi-with me?" He doesn't even let me speak- before I can get a word out, his hands are on my cheeks, his lips pressing to my forehead softly.
"Grazie, per tutto questo, grazie." His lips are all over my face- my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my eye lids. Abruptly, he pulls back, releasing me to fumble with his shirt pocket.
Pulling out a little box, he smiles sheepishly at me, placing it in my hands. It's no bigger than my palm, wrapped in silver wrapping paper.
I carefully open it, too stunned to speak, pulling back the lid to reveal the necklace inside.
"It's a-a-a sun-sun ch-charm, I-I s-sa-saw it at th-the f-fair, a-and i-i-t re-reminded me o-o-of yo-you. E-ev-even o-on my wo-wor-worst d-days, y-you m-ma-man-manage t-to m-make th-things b-br-bri-brighter."
"Nathan," I hold the medallion between my thumb and forefinger, admiring the carved image into the metal, "it's so beautiful, I love this." I hope my smile conveys how much I mean it, how my heart is suffering major palpitations right now. "Thank you. Would you mind helping me put it on?"
Taking it from my hands, he carefully wraps it around my neck, settling the medallion in between my collar bones as he clasps it.
"H-ha-happy V-val-valentine's D-day Emma."
"Happy Valentine's Day Nathan." I pull him to his feet with me as I rise, struggling immensely in my heels.
"I left your gift at the house, it was kind of big to fit in my purse." I think back on the small, square shaped clutch I left at our table, and then to his gift, buried under my clothes in my bag, patiently waiting to be given.
YOU ARE READING
Love, Emma
Teen Fiction"E-Emma? It's okay y-you know. I-I'm used to i-i-it." "You shouldn't have to be, some people disgust me, the nerve of them." "I can't blame t-t-th-them, I m-mean l-l-l-look at m-me." He sounds so defeated, even though I can tell he's trying to hide...
